


Bathed in Blood

by brightlycoloredteacups



Category: Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris, Vikings (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 09:41:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17159672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightlycoloredteacups/pseuds/brightlycoloredteacups
Summary: Ivar and Hannibal show you the proper way to kill someone.





	Bathed in Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst/gifts).



Ivar was…less refined than Hannibal, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t fun to hunt together. Hand in hand the men walked, prowling Paris for victims. The ice box was running low and you’d sent them out for food. The day was nice, if a bit chilly, and it afforded the men to leisurely peruse the stock. Ivar nudges Hannibal. “What about that one?” He asks in Danish. Hannibal looks over the target. He’s fat, but fatty meat could be good sometimes. It allowed for other activities while it cooked on a low and slow heat. It doesn’t take him long to agree. “Prefect selection, as always.” Ivar smirks. “You track the meat love,” Hannibal says, kissing Ivar’s cheek. “I’ll get the wine.”

“Don’t be late,” Ivar calls. “You don’t want to miss the show.”

“I’m never late.” Hannibal retorts. Which isn’t true, he was late once, but that had been when he met you. You were a fellow classmate in his literature course, and had given the professor a hard time with your different views on the selected piece. Hannibal had stopped you after the lecture to talk to you more about it. What he thought was going to be a ten-minute conversation ended up being three hours long. When he told Ivar about you, the decision they came to was simple, they had to have you in their lives.

At first, they struggled to keep their double lives a secret, but having an anatomist for a father, you knew a human leg when you saw one. Ready to kill you if need be, you surprised them once again by telling them you hoped it was fresh. “Trust me,” You muttered, “already dead, frozen human is NOT appetizing.” It was from there they decided to keep you.

Making up excuses for two bachelors to live together was easy, but an excuse for a woman living with two men was much harder. In the end, they settled for telling the neighbors you were Hannibal’s cousin. A poor thing trying her best to get her education. They were left well enough alone.

The boys reconvened at their usual park bench for lunch. Hannibal unpacking the little basket you’d made for them. “Well?”

“We’ll have meat for dinner.” Ivar mutters. Hannibal smiles, popping a grape into his mouth. The two watch as the sun sinks in the sky. Hannibal amuses himself with a drawing, while Ivar reads aloud. The afternoon is peaceful, pleasant, perfect.

Soon enough they gather their things, and head off to the market, speaking in hushed tones about how to do it this time. They were going to do it Hannibal’s way, quick and clean. As opposed to Ivar’s way, messy and loud. Ivar tried to protest, but when Hannibal made the point about coming back to you as soon as possible, he stopped arguing.

As soon as night hits, the men break into the apartment. The pig destined to die tonight was a well-known philanderer who beat his wife and children, then drank away all his money. Ivar is known for picking these sorts of men, Hannibal can’t complain. The wife and children have yet to return home from visiting a relative. Excellent. Hannibal dispatches him quickly. Ivar grumbles, complaining about the lack of blood. Hannibal shushes him and forces him to help carve the kill. They’re in and out of the house in under an hour, on their way home, hand in hand once again.

When they get there, they’re surprised to see you in the living room, a man tied up hog style on the floor, sock in his mouth. Ivar shuffles over to you as fast as he’s able. “What the hell happened?” He asks, brushing your face from your hair. “He followed me home from father’s.” You say, sniffling. “He started saying these awful things,” Your lower lip begins to tremble. Ivar shushes you, bringing you into his arms. It seems, for some people, the war has never ended. Hannibal joins you two, kissing your face and whispering soothing words in your ear. “I know what will make you feel better,” He says, looking at the man who dare hurt you. You sniffle, looking at him. “What?” You say, tone still watery. Hannibal brings out his knife, smiling wickedly. “I’ll show you how to properly carve meat, hm? And then next time, you can come with us? How about that?” You sniff, but a small smile breaks out onto your face. “I’d like that very much.”

In the end, there isn’t much to teach you. You know you’re anatomy, and once Hannibal gives you a clear picture of what needs to be done, he allows you free reign. Ivar pipes up from the back, giving little rhymes here and there. “Fear makes the meat sweet” and “When the cow is weak, the master does eat.” Uninspired, but he’s gotten two kills in one day, he can’t be faulted for not being at his most poetic.

You squeal as you hit an artery, blood spraying everywhere. Hannibal is quick to react, dashing across the tiny apartment to his surgical kit. Somehow, he manages to staunch the blood flow, saving the man’s life for further torture. You huff, putting the leg down on the ground. “I’m sorry,” You say, giving Hannibal a sheepish smile, “I seem to have gotten too excited.” Hannibal is going to assure you it was perfectly alright, but Ivar has other plans. “I’ll show you excited.” He growls, crawling across the floor.

You accept him readily. Hannibal steps back, knowing full well the state that’s come over Ivar. He watches, interested as Ivar rips your blouse in two. The Dane laps the blood off your face like a dog, then begins to mouth at your neck, growling. Beneath him you whimper and writhe. As messy as it is, there’s something primal about it. Hannibal determines he simply must be a part of what’s happened. He goes to the bedside and gathers a tiny bottle of oil. When he comes back to the mess in the living room, Ivar is thrusting into you with fervor. You’re clawing at his back, legs wrapped around his hips to keep him from going far.

Hannibal takes his pants off and kneels, spreads oil on his hands and places them on Ivar’s ass. The man stops, and looks behind him questioningly. “I thought you didn’t like to get messy.” Ivar says, smiling. Hannibal circles Ivar’s asshole, pressing a finger inside. The man groans. “I don’t, usually, but you two look like you’re having so much fun, I can’t help but participate.” He pumps his finger in hand out a few times, not bothering to prep Ivar for the thickness about to invade. Hannibal preferred being well prepped, but Ivar enjoyed pain with his pleasure.

You and Ivar wait with bated breath as Hannibal gets into position, entering his lover from behind, the two men above you moan. For a moment, everything is still. Then, not being able to take in anymore, Ivar begins his brutal pace anew. Not caring much about the pleasure of his partners in this state, Ivar takes when he wants. Hannibal watches you squirm, smiling down at you. He can see why Ivar gets so riled up. Your bare breasts bouncing with Ivar’s rhythem, the blood on your skin looks exquisite. The look of pleasure on your face makes him think of famous sculptures in the Louvre.

He knows when you’re back arches off the floor you’re mere moments from climax. “That’s it,” Hannibal says, hoping his voice can reach you over the sounds of Ivar’s incessant grunting. “that’s it, cum for us, love. Come for Ivar and I.” It seems you hear the command, and your fall quiet and begin to shake. Ivar snarls and latches on to your throat, his own orgasm hitting him hard. Hannibal follows soon after.

All three of you fall into a heap, breathing heavily. Suddenly, you begin to laugh. “What’s so funny?” Ivar mumbles, head on your chest, halfway to sleep. “Nothing, it just looks like we’ve all bathed in blood.”


End file.
